


An Easing

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It's ridiculous to worry over Coward.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	An Easing

In public, Coward is always impeccably dressed, always formal, always flawless. In the private comfort of his own rooms, and more recently, Blackwood's rooms, however, he is quick to attain a certain state of undress. The jacket goes first, stripped off and tossed carelessly aside as soon as he walks through the door, the cravat following swiftly. By the end of an hour, Coward's waistcoat is draped over the back of a chair, his shoes kicked beneath the same chair, his cuffs unbuttoned, rolled back to reveal the clean knobs of his wrists.

It is in this state that Coward is now, curled with his back against the arm of the settee, one arm resting against his drawn up knees, propping up his head, eyelashes brushing the knuckles with each sleepy blink, toes tucked neatly under Blackwood's thigh. He's watching Blackwood, half asleep, the dimed light turning him into ivory and alabaster and other beautiful, fragile things; Blackwood is reminded suddenly of how young Coward is. He's so composed, so eloquent, his rise so rapid, his actions so carefully thought out, his mind such a sharp, bright thing that is easy to forget. But he looks every inch of his true age now, and Blackwood feels something tighten in his chest.

It's ridiculous to worry for Coward; he's proven himself well able to look out for himself and his interests. Still, it remains; he reaches out and fits his hand round Coward's wrist, draws him up to his knees. Coward tucks his feet beneath him and leans into Blackwood's side, rests his chin on Blackwood's shoulder. Blackwood turns his head, his lips brushing Coward's temple, and that something that might be worry, that urge to protect, eases, settles.

Stills, much as Coward does, languid in sleep.


End file.
